


Narrow Escape

by Skyler10



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Bubble Bath, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Telepathic Bond, Threats of Rape/Non-Con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-06
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-07-29 20:06:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7697752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyler10/pseuds/Skyler10
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In 1920s Ireland, Rose faces the harsh realities of her homeland’s muddy history. Plus, after a close call in a pub, the Doctor realizes if he’s going to keep her safe, communication is key. Which gives him an idea…</p>
            </blockquote>





	Narrow Escape

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warning – there’s a tiny graphic threat of rape, but it’s very short and quickly dealt with. So short, I didn't feel it needed a content warning but wanted to mention it here just in case. Also, mentions of England’s history with Ireland, though slightly altered for Pete’s World. 
> 
> If you don’t judge me for my Irish, I won’t judge you for how you write Texan. ;) ;)

Being the Doctor, and new to this universe, it never occurred to him that taking a pretty English girl to Ireland in the 1920s could go one of two ways. And considering it was a rough part of Dublin at the height of the war, the more pleasant of those two ways was off the table.

“Oh, c’mon, Rose,” he had cajoled, not understanding the full picture. “It’s late. We’re both starving. We’ll just get a bite and be on our way.”

Rather than make a scene in a busy city street, Rose followed him into the urban pub. It was crowded and noisy, mostly full of blokes and barmaids, all with an accent she knew she couldn’t replicate, certainly not convincingly to this crowd. She had had to learn many accents and languages as a Torchwood agent, not to mention poshing up her natural speech to fool everyone about her true identity. But Irish, particularly of this variety, turned back to her native Cockney no matter how hard she tried.

The Doctor, infuriatingly, had no trouble with blending in wherever he went, no matter the accent. Blind to both that this was one of his Time Lord superpowers and to Rose’s inability to always follow along in step, he reveled in the atmosphere, observing history as it played out.

A table of IRA fighters eyed Rose as she squeezed by. She ducked her head and gripped the Doctor’s hand tighter, determined not to lose him on the way to the only open table, which was of course, in the very back of the establishment.

All was going well enough until she needed the loo. She strategically left the table at a time when the path was clear, but she wasn’t so lucky on the way back. The young men, spoiling for a fight and restless from weeks of inactivity for their cause, had been watching her. She knew their type from the estate. Unemployed, screwed by the government from birth, fatherless, disillusioned by the slow pace of revolution, they alternated between feeling sorry for themselves until they were drowning in ale or whisky or beer, then the anger came. Anger at the world, at themselves, at whoever stood in their way.

And right now, she was.

“Don’ believe we’ve ha the chance ta be introduced,” one leered.

The others played along, laughing as they pretended at courtesy. Rose noticed they were backing her down the dim hallway, away from the pub and toward a back alley door. She assessed her resources. Seeing as they weren’t on a mission, just out exploring in the TARDIS, she didn’t have a single weapon on her. “Always cause more trouble than solve it,” the Doctor said of her handgun, so she left it at home when not on duty. She had her sonic screwdriver the Doctor had made her, so she could burst a pipe or lock a door or flicker the lights. Not a bad idea, if these lot were the superstitious type.

One of the overgrown boys jostled her shoulder, and she realized they had asked her a question.

“Would ya like that, lass? Eh?”

“Wha?” she answered, trying to hide her voice as much as possible.

“Answer ‘im ya wench!”

Left with no choice and literally backed into a corner, she gave in.

“No, whatever it was, I’m sure I wouldn’t. Now lemme go back to my boyfriend.”

“I knew it!” the cockiest of the lads crowed. “We got ourselves a genuine English rose. Proper lady and all, aren’t yeh? A pretty lil flower.”

“You have no idea,” Rose deadpanned and rolled her eyes. Seriously, take these guys and put them in 1990s London and she’d be having school yard flashbacks. “You remember I was with someone, yeah? And he’s gonna come looking for me if you don’t let me go. And trust me, you really, really don’t want that to happen.”

Foul breath made her choke as one of them leaned in. “What, that skinny wanker? If I was your bloke, I’d never let yeh outta my sight, yeah?”

“You wanna know what I’d do with yeh?” Another pressed in from the other side. He trailed a dirty hand down her cheek to her shoulder to her breast. She prayed he couldn’t feel how fast her heart was beating. “In fact, I think I’m gonna do it anyway. I’mma shred this dress right off of you, I’mma take you so hard yeh bleed, yeh filthy—”

 Rose never heard the curse at the end of that sentence, as the bloke was ripped away from her and decked solidly in the jaw. She took the opportunity to deliver a few blows with her knee to the lanky lad with the bad breath on the other side of her, who was trying to hold down her wrist. She freed herself easily and punched him a good one. 

“About bloody time!” Rose called to her hero.

 “Oh, shut it and run!” he shouted back. He grabbed her hand and together, they flew out the back door and through the alley. They couldn’t get away that easily, of course, as half the pub had taken interest in the fight and was keen to see it continue in the street.

Rose and the Doctor weren’t, however, and didn’t stop sprinting until they reached the TARDIS. The young Irishmen were fast, fueled by the knowledge that they’d been fooled by the now-English-sounding bloke as well as anger at the English young woman’s escape. 

“Oh, please, old girl,” the Doctor muttered as they approached the blue box. “If I ever needed this to work, it’s now.” He snapped his fingers and the doors flew open. He shoved Rose in first and fell in right behind her. The doors slammed shut of their own accord. The TARDIS turned on the outside monitoring system.

The lads were banging on the door. “We’ve got yeh trapped, yeh know! Yeh can’t hide forever!”

The Doctor smirked at the screen as they continued to hurl insults. Rose stared at him and panted in incredulity: “You. Can. Snap to. Open it?! WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME THIS?!”

“Ahh. Well,” the Doctor scratched at his ear. “Didn’t know until after we were apart in the old universe, and hadn’t had the opportunity to use it here.”

His eyes betrayed him, however, as he glanced down to where Rose’s key was snug under her clothing.

“You always let me unlock it,” she deduced. “It turns you on, doesn’t it?”

“Maybe a little,” he admitted. He made his way over to her and embraced her from behind. Instead of melting into him as usual, however, she stiffened.

“Doctor, can we just go?”

“Yeah, yeah, sure.” They took their places at the console and sent the TARDIS into the vortex, to the astonished gasps of everyone still outside and banging on the doors.

“Rose?” he asked when they were safely floating in space. “What did they do to you?”

She shook her head and sighed. “I’m going to make some tea.”

He followed her into the galley, now even more concerned.

“I couldn’t see over the men, what they were doing. Only that they were closer to you than they should have been. I heard that one threatening you and lost it.”

Rose had filled her mug and was now gripping it tightly, watching the teabag steep.

“I’m sorry if I interfered with whatever plan you had, love.” His voice was softer now and he stepped close, wanting to comfort her, but remembering her reaction in the console room. His hand fell back to his side.

“There wasn’t a plan,” she huffed out. “There… was no plan at all. I tried to tell you it was dangerous and you didn’t listen. And I followed you anyway.”

“Rose.”

“No, I know you’re sorry it happened, and you’ll watch me like a hawk for the next week until it drives me barmy and I make you stop.”

“I _am_ sorry though. I’m sorry I didn’t listen earlier. I’m sorry I put you in danger.”

“Do you know why it was dangerous though? How dangerous it was?” She exhaled a humorless laugh.  

“I didn’t think, Rose. Sometimes I forget you aren’t like me. You have a context and a home with a history that means something to most people, and…”

“And sometimes that home country does things. Awful things. All throughout history. I got off lucky tonight, Doctor. We both did. What I was trying to tell you earlier is that it isn’t just the same history you know here. Sure, back home it was terrible, but here it was worse.”

“Worse?” His eyes were wide now. Now, he was listening.

“Ireland didn’t split here. The IRA, or what would become the IRA, took absolute power over the whole island and killed them all. All the Protestants and royalists and sympathizers and English. Every single one. Could have probably invaded London if they had wanted by that point. They tried, burned up most of Wales, but didn’t get farther than that before they ran out of supplies and went home.”

“How…? No treaty? No…”

“They had good reason.” Rose squeezed her eyes shut for a moment in remembrance of the history her father had filled her in on. It had been a sickening lesson. “England was… ruthless. Even more so than back home in the old universe. We were _monsters_ , Doctor. Those men tonight, they had plenty of reason to be angry when they heard my accent, and then later, your real one. We’re lucky to be alive. If I were them and had all that shite happen to my family, to you, I wouldn’t hesitate.”

He stared at her in shock.

“What I’m trying to say is, I forgive them. And I forgive you,” she concluded, setting her half-finished tea on the counter. “Now, I’m going to go take a bath.”

“Can I…?” The love and sorrow in his eyes was too much. She nodded and shuddered.

“I can still feel their hands on me. Smell their stink.”

His brow furrowed, but he opened his arms to her. She accepted this time, burying herself in his pure antithesis to the men’s threats until his scent and touch and gentleness erased them from her senses.

“They touched you?” he asked, even as he knew the answer. She nodded against him and he tightened his embrace. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I should have come sooner. I knew that you’d been gone too long. Should have listened. You tried to tell me…”

She pulled away and cupped his cheek. “I know. And I already told you I accept. Now, how about that bath, hm?”

* * *

 

They didn’t speak again until they were relaxed in the tub, Rose leaning back on his chest.

“There’s something I want to try that could help us.” He hesitated. “You might not like it.”

“Help us do what?”

“Communicate when we’re apart.”

“You mean like you might actually keep your mobile on so I can get ahold of you?” She scooped up some bubbles and began playfully covering his arm in them where it was resting on the side of the tub.

“No, well, yes, that too. But something in situations like tonight where that wouldn’t have been possible.”

She sat up and turned around so she could read his intentions. He, however, was easily distracted by the sexy way the bubbles clung to her body.

“Focus!” she chided. He snapped his eyes back up to hers. “What would have helped tonight?”

“Ummm, well.” He returned to his old neck-scratching, ear-tug, boyish smile routine. “Telepathy?”

“All I know are defenses, I can’t…”

“I can teach you,” he smiled in that I’m-so-impressive way of his. He picked up some bubbles and blew them in her direction.

“So, like, you can read my thoughts?” She batted the bubbles away.

“No. You can _send_ me thoughts. On purpose. Like a text message. Or photo. But mentally, so no one else even knows you did it.”

“And you could send some back? Can you do that with anyone? Have you done it before and I just didn’t know, like with the snapping open the doors thing?”   

“No! Certainly not.” He frowned, repulsed at the idea compared to what he was so poorly explaining. “This is more like a… bond. A two-way, just you and me, thing. Quite, um, intimate, actually.”

“Is this a romantic thing?” She was beginning to catch on from the way he was blushing, and not just from the heat of the water.

“Can we stop referring to a telepathic bond as a ‘thing’? It’s actually a very important… oh, never mind.” He pursed his lips and piled up bubbles as he talked. “I just thought it would help in case of a crisis is all. You know ‘Oh, hey, by the way, Doctor, I’m being assaulted by strange men in a pub.’ That sort of scenario.”

“Oh, don’t get that way. I was just asking. And you’re not exactly giving me a lot to go on here,” she pointed out, not unkindly. “Help me understand, love. What would we have to do?”

“You lower your barriers, and I can go into your mind via the fingers-on-temples method.”

“Ok, that’s nothing we haven’t done before.” She shrugged a bare shoulder, remembering the times in their travels they had been telepathically attacked, including Cassandra’s possession of her mind on New Earth and his examination afterward to make sure it hadn’t done any lasting damage.

“It would be different though. This time, there would always be part of me, there in your consciousness. At first, we’d need to be touching, but the longer we are together and the more we use it… well, really, the stronger our relationship grows, the stronger our bond grows, until eventually we could be physically much farther apart than I ever plan on being from you again.”

“So across the room then?” she teased, running a hand over his knee.

He noticed the bubbles that had been covering her upper half had long since dissolved and the water was lukewarm.

“We’ll talk more about it tomorrow. We’ve had enough excitement for one day, I believe.”

She stood and stepped out of the bath, toweling herself dry. She smirked as he stared, then shook his head and dried off himself.

“One more question.” She hung her towel back on the hook and stepped close to him. He noted the only thing separating them was the towel he had wrapped around his waist. “This telepathic bond. Would it have other uses besides getting out of danger? Perhaps more intimate ones?”

The Doctor gasped as she drew an innocent little heart over an already half-hard not-so-innocent place on his towel that would soon be tenting if she kept doing that.

“Uhh yes, in fact. It very well could,” he answered. “Leave it to a human to think of such a thing.”

“Like you’ve never fantasized about it,” she laughed. She made sure he was watching as she walked, naked, into their bedroom.

“Oh, just you wait, Rose Tyler,” he growled out as he followed her. “There are plenty of _intimate_ uses for this bond we’re starting tomorrow and I’m not the only one in this relationship with fantasies to share.”

She climbed backwards on the bed, and gave him a tongue-touched, knowing smile as he eagerly mirrored her motion, his arms and legs on either side of her body, scooting back until they reached the pillows and he dove down to cover her in kisses. She giggled and captured his lips. As they kissed, she pulled him closer until she felt him hardening against her.

“Doctor,” she breathed, turning away from their snog. “Touch me. Here.”

She moved his hand that was on her hip to her breast. The silliness of the moment faded into sober understanding between them.

“They touched here…?” His anger at the men from the pub flared back to life. She didn’t answer.

“Please, love,” she implored, full of need and hurt and desire. He didn’t need to be begged. He caressed her and kissed her and worshipped her entire being. He gratefully offered her the healing he had been struggling to provide all evening, the safety he had neglected at the pub, the antidote to all the pain and the heartache and trauma their travels exposed her to. With their bond in place, he’d be able to offer so much more. A home within their minds.

For tonight, they were confined to the physical and verbal realm, and while it didn’t seem nearly adequate for expressing all they felt for each other, their lovemaking was just what they needed to get through the night. 

 


End file.
